Running Away, or simply being run over?

It's one of those days.  Not again, though, just still.  I'm stuck in this place where I don't know where to go and I don't know what to feel.  I don't even know if I can justly explain the emotions swirling inside my heart.  Maybe that's my problem.  My emotion has settled inside my heart, and my head can't make sense of it.  My heart and head are unattached, growing still, but separately.  My heart's growth seems to be stunted, a step behind everything my brain and body is telling it to do.  The step is more like a mile.  A milestone.  A moment in time, I can't get past.
If there's a song that describes this state of mind I can't place what it is, who sang it, or when I heard it.  I know it exists though.  There is a song that I want blast from my car radio driving down the highway without a destination.  There's a song out there that I know would tell me exactly where to go right now.  And I can't past the feeling that I just want to get away.  Anywhere but here, never seemed so true as in this moment.  Everytime I'm in my car driving, I have to stifle the feeling to just keep driving.  I've never been here before.  I've never needed to just escape everyone and everything.  And I'm not sure that it is that drastic.  Maybe I just need a break.  From life. 
 I just want to get in the car with my boyfriend and never stop driving until I end up somewhere and know exactly why I started driving in the first place.  There is a place, out there somewhere.  It's a place where I'll feel again.  It's a place where my heart can heal, and my head will finally clear.  It's out there.  I feel it.  It's humming in the back of my head, it's drawing me nearer to the edge everyday.  Do I jump?  Do I drive?
 That's the hardest part of the journey of life, knowing when to silence those feelings, and when to follow them wherever they may lead.  I think I just need to drop everything and not look back this time. 
 My biggest fear is that when I actually get to this place, when i follow my heart ignoring the consequences, that I'll end up in a land far darker and harder to navigate than the one I'm in now.  I'm afraid I'll get all my answers, and it's all the things I never wanted to hear.  I know what I'm searching for, and I know what I'm hoping for, but the truth is... no matter where I end up, he's not going to be there when I arrive.
He's not going to be standing on the edge of some nameless town, pointing to the reason I've been driving for hours, days, more precisely years.  He won't be driving next to us on the highway, no matter how broken down or how disgustingly maroon that Chevy truck is.  That long haired man with the ballcap and  flannel shirt on isn't him.  And it won't be his driveway we break down in.  Because someone else is driving his faithful truck with his smell still embedded in every inch of the interior.  Someone else is sleeping in his bed.  Someone else parks in his driveway.  Someone else's kids curl up in those bedrooms.  I know where he isn't.  And as much as I don't want to admit it, I know where he is as well.
 It's cold there, and dark, and bottomless.  And the fact that it slices a dagger through my heart to enter a world where this place is a reality, isn't fair.  If memories could kill, I would be in critical condition.
 Does he know?  Can he see?  is it his voice in my head urging me to just drive?  and if it is, what is he trying to tell me find?  I can't make myself believe that it's him.  but i can't turn the thoughts off.  My brain won't stop.
 I can't sleep anymore.  he's everywhere.  he's everything.  He's every reason I ever ration.  he's overtaking, and it hurts.  it just hurts.  which makes me want to run.  That used to be my answer to everything, just run away, leave it all behind.  Don't even pack a bag, just go, and when you get there you'll know.  You can build your life back together, and everything will be okay, but for some reason I can't even make myself believe that.  Everything will not be okay, ever.  I cant save myself
 but i can run...

...someone catch me,
Jenny Leigh

My Face of Darkness

Middle of the road,
center of the highway,
waiting for traffic to come
and sweep my worries away.

Ventilators are far easier
than trying to find reasons for every breath.
In, out, in, out, in,
hold it until you burst.
Brighten the walls if not the world.

Some say I’m depressive,
I prefer antagonistic.
Try to outdo me.
I dare you to loathe the world
as much as I wish I could love it.

We’re opposites, attracting,
and it’s about time you realized
We’ll lose interest before
We ever figure all this out.

Broken, blistered,
healed, and tainted.
But still wishing on the stars
that have already burned out.

Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest
are the first to fade away?
I was bright once too,
that’s what they’ll say.

What they won’t tell you,
is how I got here.
You’ll learn though.
This road, it’s contagious,
and you may not know it yet,
but you’re only a few twists and turns away.

Life’s ironic like that,
you just have to learn to laugh.
Laugh at the heartaches,
the losses, the pain,
and maybe someday it’ll give up.

Life gave up on me a long time ago,
I have a slight case of ignorance
So this is me holding on,
this is me not letting go.

This is me in the truest, barest,
most disgustingly honest hues.
The truth may be ugly,
but from far away I look beautiful.

The scars are minute,
the darkness shadows all truth,
and you’d come running
if you ever saw the paths I took.

They’re beautiful, and dangerous,
and in the end you’ll see
why your darkest moments,
Are equally as enlightening.

If you can look in the mirror
and accept your face of darkness,
I applaud you.
I can barely manage to glance at mine.

I'm the splenda in your sickeningly sugar-coated world

Who am I to assume that my fucked up existence even matters in this world? Who am I to judge what will one day prove to be important? I’m nobody… but in the same respect I am somebody. I am a blip on the radar, a face in the crowd, but I’m different. I feel this fact every single day. I don’t fit in, and I used to hate that fact, now it’s simply there. I don’t know why, but I think it was supposed to be this way. I was supposed to be different, not better, simply different. It’s kind of like sugar and splenda. I’m the splenda, but even though I’m “healthy”, someday they’ll discover that I’m only slowly killing you. I wish my mind would work. This life is getting me closer and closer to the nowhere I’m destined to end up in. Middle of the road, center of the highway, waiting for traffic to come and sweep my worries away. Ventilators are far easier than trying to find reasons for every breath. In, out, in, out, in… hold it until you burst. Brighten the walls if not the world. Some say I’m depressive, I prefer antagonistic. I’m out to show the world that they’re happier than at least one billionth of the population. Try to outdo me, I dare you to loathe the world as much as I wish I could love it. We’re opposites, attracting, and it’s about time you realized we’ll never figure all this out. Broken, blistered, healed, and tainted. But still wishing on the stars that have already burned out. Ever notice the ones that burn the brightest are the first to fade away? I was bright once too… that’s what they’ll say. I was full of life, and reason, and goals. What they won’t tell you is how I got here. You’ll learn though. This road, it’s contagious, and you may not know it yet, but you’re only a few twists and turns away. Life’s ironic like that, you just have to learn to laugh. Laugh at the heartaches, the losses, the pain, and maybe someday it’ll give up. Life gave up on me a long time ago, too bad I’m more stubborn than anyone realized. This is me holding on, this is me not letting go. This is me in the truest, barest, most disgustingly honest hues. The truth is ugly, but from far away I look beautiful. The scars are minute, the darkness shadows all truth, and you’ll come running if you ever see the paths I mistakenly took. They’re beautiful, and dangerous, and in the end you’ll see why your darkest moments show you who you truly are. If you can look in the mirror and accept your face of darkness, I applaud you. I can barely manage to glance at mine.

Starting over, or just starting in?

I’m starting off on a new piece of paper so I can wipe clean the memories of yesterday, so I can forget the girl I was, and become the girl that I am, or maybe have always been. I’m never true in these pages, that aren’t even pages, just simply dots and dashes combined to create a much faster, but less true version of my thoughts. Where we end up is somewhere between reality and sadness, but somehow still a step above where we really are. It’s like the words are bleeding so fast that I’m losing my head before the contents have been spilled. It doesn’t even hurt sometimes. It doesn’t sting, or swell, require any stitches, but it sure as hell kills you inside. It kills those places that weren’t so black, dyes them the wrong shade because of misguided intentions and fast-paced decisions. This world is broken, and I have only words bleeding forth much faster than they ever should, the words spewing forth from my mouth tangling and snagging on the shards of a relationship that I’m, for the first time unsure of. How does life take you down such roads? Or is it I that am leading myself to tears?
I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.
It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.
I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.
I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.
But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.
May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.
I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my naïve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.
So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.
Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,
Jenny

Untitled Poem

The night shrouds my good intentions
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.

growing up without falling down

I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up.  I'm 19 years old, a sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology.  I work at a job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life.  I sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy that I can't possibly ever live without now.  Sounds normal doesn't it.  My life that is.  I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere right now, but I do.  I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second thoughts.  I don't know who I am anymore.  I can't write, I can't form a thought, or justly represent it to the world.  Who am I if I am not my words?  It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints.  I'm sick of whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.  When will there ever be more?  Is there more, to life, to a world so off kilter?
 So when do we grow out of it?  When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life?  What does that even mean?
 fuck it this isn't making sense.

Untouchables

The future is something that I can’t quite touch today. I want to reach out and grab it, feel it for bumps and bruises, see myself in that light. Will it be bright, broken, or devoid of all that matters? Will I wake up one of these days in the shoes of the girl that I will one day become? Will I always be this goddamn broken? It’s a failed attempt to question the fates that aren’t listening to my cries. I’m insignificant in the scheme of things, I will prove to be nothing more than my words on this paper. I will cease to be, and nothing will remain, nothing but this. This broken page bleeding an existence that didn’t ever say anything worth reading about. All these questions about love and life and purpose, no one cares. No one should, because they have their own. Everyone wonders if they’ll ever get to that grand place we all believe we’re destined for, that place that we believe we deserve, but what if we don’t? What if we were put here for punishment? Did we do something so long ago as a race that someone decided we needed to pay? Or is that just a human emotion, revenge, justice, peace of mind? I don’t understand where I’m going with this or where I may have already been. It’s all coming out in circles inside squares and I can’t find a corner in which to hide. We aren’t helpless, we’re lost. We aren’t broken, we’re hurting. We aren’t confused, we’re misrepresented. So what’s it all for? Is it worth it anymore? Can you get to a place where the hurt overtakes the possibilities of tomorrow? Tomorrow means nothing. Today means the world to me, but I’m not sure that the world means a goddamn thing anyway. Why do we continue to walk the paths we can’t ever get away from. They’re all the same, they’re all crooked and trapped, and dead-ended. We always end up in a place we don’t want to be. Always. And forever. Broken, but not forgotten. Forgotten, but not disillusioned. We know who we are, we know where we are and where we’ve been, but we don’t care. Tomorrow is what counts. That place we can never get to because it always turns into today and like I said today doesn’t mean a damn thing when we have tomorrow to worry about. Wishes disappear, desires fade away. Love may live on through death, depression, and disgust, but hate breaks boundaries love knows nothing of. Hate breeds a future full of darkness. I guess it’s only fitting that the streetlights burst at the thought. We are seeking the darkness we fear, we are going to a place we never wanted to ever experience. But somehow it’s too alluring to avoid. Truth blossoms in the dark, but lies, they tumble easier than your lifeless clothes onto the floor. You’re rolling around in the sheets of desire again, naked in every sense of the word. Does it feel good? Right? Justified because the lights don’t burn to tell your tale. I feel that too. In the dark I feel free. Freedom born on the wings of the owl that haunts the night. He doesn’t forget though, no one ever forgets. Our actions will follow us until the end of time. What does that say about you? Where will what you are doing tonight, in the dark, take you when you meet your maker? It will take you miles from that place you always assumed you’d make it to. There is no such thing as success or never-ending love. There is no such thing as making it. You will be mediocre for the rest of your life, or you will break yourself so badly on the way to the top that you fall. Flailing slightly trying your hardest to convince the gods that you deserve that pedestal. You’re feet aren’t pretty enough to be eye-level in this image driven society. Get some expensive shoes, paint them up pretty, they’ll never measure up. The mediocre will never lead the world. The world’s going to hell anyway, do you want to look responsible for the final showdown? Because you’ll lose. There are forces in this world that far surpass our own. We will not win, we will kill ourselves. Mass suicide at the hands of a society so driven on surviving that it surrendered its chance of ever succeeding.

Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.
I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.
Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.
Shut me up but don’t shut me down,
Jenny